


Afterglow

by DevineMandate



Series: Talk, Kiss, Sex, Repeat [2]
Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Post-Lethal White, Sequel, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2020-12-31 19:50:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21151259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DevineMandate/pseuds/DevineMandate
Summary: More smut and talking starring our two favorite people!  If you haven't read this...Struck...then you'll miss some context as this is a direct sequel. But it might work standalone.





	1. Chapter 1

It was 8:00 when Robin’s phone alarm went off and she reached instinctively out and silenced it without opening her eyes.

She lay still, her eyelids closed, not really awake yet, feeling disorientated, not in her usual space, different smells, different air. Something else was different, and her heart leapt a little, though her semi-conscious brain did not know why. Something good had happened, what?

It came rushing back with a shock of joy that threw her eyelids open like window shades.

_Oh thank God, thank God. It was real. Cormoran is here with me and he wants to stay. He wants_ me _to stay._

Robin saw and felt his hand splayed across her stomach, thought how right it looked and felt. She looked over at him, sleeping somewhat on his stomach and somewhat on his side, with one forearm draped across the small gap between them, and for a few minutes, she simply basked in the glow. Nothing was wrong. Everything was wonderful.

The next thing she felt was surprise at this feeling of ease and contentment. She’d have expected to feel nervous, to wonder if they’d made a mistake, to wonder if he was going to regret it. But they had bared their souls so thoroughly to one another last night, and in so many ways, that there was no room for doubt or concern in her heart. He loved her. She loved him. It was going to be fine. The next few weeks would be interesting to navigate. They were in uncharted waters, and boundaries would need to be brushed up against, adjusted, sometimes destroyed. But it was fine. It was amazing to think of what she could ask him now, how the landscape of his life and heart was hers to explore. He was such an honest, good man. Her heart swelled and her eyes filled, just to think of it.

She gently lifted his hand and set it aside on the mattress as she rolled quietly out of bed and grabbed her phone. He stirred slightly, but did not wake. She padded to the bathroom and, quietly as she could manage, relieved herself and brushed her teeth.

She texted her mother and father, feeling the slightest tinge of annoyance at the fact that Linda would be smug, maybe even roll her eyes slightly, when she saw it. Michael might be pleased and might not. He’d met with Cormoran one other time since the wedding, at one of Robin’s birthdays, and seemed to approve of him in the same gruff, dismissive, easy, male way her brothers did, though his approval didn’t reach so far as to make him forget the literal and figurative scars she’d gotten from her chosen profession and partner.

Partner. It was a more apt term for him than ever.

**Cormoran and I are in a relationship. Yes, that kind. I’ll call you later today and we’ll talk more about it. Love you. xoxo**

Again, she felt as though she should be worried about sending such a text to her parents on the morning after, before he'd woken up and they’d had a chance to talk again. Yet no fear presented itself.

With the text sent, she looked at the travel details on her phone. It was 8:06 and the train station was 15 minutes away on foot. The train left at 9:04. There was time. Time for this cocoon to stay around them just a little longer.

She opened the bathroom door and tiptoed over, causing only the slightest rustle as she pulled the covers over herself, and then she gently put her hand on his shoulder. “Cormoran?”

He woke immediately, and the way his eyes and face softened at the sight of her made her heart feel like it might stop--how happy could you be before it was dangerous? Did people overdose on happiness?

He scooted over slightly, kissed the hollow between her jaw and ear and wrapped one arm around her.

“Robin. Oh, thank God.”

Happy to hear her own thoughts echoed aloud by him, she threw an arm under his neck and pulled him tight to her. He squeezed her just a little in return and then relaxed into it.

“I have a terrible problem,” he said in a tone she could tell was mock serious.

“What?”

“I want to go brush my teeth so that I can kiss you properly...but I also don’t want to leave this bed ever again as long as you’re in it.”

She surprised herself a little with her response. “Well...if you keep the kissing neck and below, I think we’ll be okay.”

He pulled back from her, grinning. “Ohhhhh, cheeky-in-bed Robin. Nice to meet you. Hmmmm, no mouth kisses...like you’re a fetishist, and I’m your one-legged whore.”

“Cormoran!”

“Sorry.” But the continuing grin indicated he clearly wasn’t. “I’m going to be ribald and inappropriate sometimes, especially about my leg. That’s just the man you’ve fallen in love with.”

“Oh, I really have. I’m just crazy about you, Cormoran. It scares me a little, honestly.”

His expression turned serious. “I know. Me too.” And she completely believed him. There was no uncertainty, no waiting for the other shoe to drop, no anticipation of some belittlement of their relationship as had happened so often with Matthew. It wasn’t that there was no choice for him in the matter as Matthew had always said, demeaning her and their schoolmates. Strike had every choice in that regard that he could have wanted. Beautiful women, classy women, rich women...he had been with them all. And she meant more to him than they did. He wanted her. It was a new feeling, a wonderful feeling to be _chosen_ like this.

“Cormoran, I want you.”

“I know. Me too.” One corner of his mouth rose, and then he slid his hand up and down her spine, a gentle caress, not so light as to be ticklish, nor so firm as to be uncomfortable. It was delicious, the way he touched her.

“I can’t believe how good your hands feel on me.”

“Well, my mouth is really jealous of that compliment, I’ll have you know,” and he kissed her collarbone, then filled his hand with one of her breasts, and slid down the bed slightly to get his mouth next to her other nipple, kissing and then lightly lapping and then gently suckling.

“Ohhhhhh, Cormoran, that feels soooooo nice.”

“Doesduzznit,” he said without taking his mouth off of her. Then he did remove his mouth for a moment. “Trust me, though, it’s a good thing your nipples don’t have a sense of smell.” She laughed, and then he moved his mouth to her other nipple, and reached his hand down and stroked the most sensitive flesh on her, making her redouble her moans. The gentle pace of his mouth and fingers grew faster, and suddenly she needed him right now.

Before she could say anything, he had sat up and spread her legs apart, kneeling between them.

“Oh, Cormoran, it’s like you know what I want almost before I do.”

He swept his eyes from her thighs to her hair. “You’re gorgeous, Robin. Jesus Christ, you’re perfect, a fucking sex goddess.” He looked into her eyes, and his pupils dilated. What he said next he said without bravado; he said it like it was a statement of fact. “Robin, I’m going to make you feel so good, you can’t even imagine.”

She shivered at his confidence, at his sheer sexiness and masculinity. “Please do. Please, Cormoran.”

He lifted her ankles to his shoulders, locked eyes with her, held still a moment; he gazed at her with such tenderness that she felt almost shy. Then, without taking his eyes off of her face, he drove into her.

She gasped at it, had forgotten he was so...big. She felt coiled around him, he filled her so thoroughly.

He pulled back and thrust forward slowly several times, pressing the secret place inside her that throbbed and ached, sending waves of joy and lust cascading over her.

“You feel so good, Cormoran. Never stop, never, you’re amazing.” She could feel herself getting flushed, sweat breaking out on her neck. The tenderness on his face was starting to be replaced by intense lust as his pace quickened; he looked almost angry, he was so intense, so fervent, and oh but it felt so good to get mounted and fucked by someone you trusted so much. All inhibition was gone; she felt nothing but intense, continuous pleasure and utter gratitude. Gratitude to the universe or God or whoever for giving her this man. Gratitude to Cormoran for making her feel bestial in the intensity of their sex. “Fuck me, Cormoran! You’re so sexy; I feel like an animal!” His eyes widened and he gripped her legs a little harder. She grabbed his shoulders, pulled her down to him, stopping his thrusts momentarily, and she whispered next to his ear, “Ride me like the hairy beast you are.”

As if in agreement, he snorted like a bull, put his hands under her arse, squeezed there a moment before he flattened his palms and lifted her hips clear off the bed, so that he was driving deeper than ever before, to the hilt. The combination of his strength--how he lifted her as easily as though she were made of straw--and her surprise, and the increased depth of his penetration made her come almost instantly. “Ohhhh, I’m coming. Ohhhhhh, I’m coming! Oh Cormoran, oh, oh…I’m still coming, don’t stop! Oh my God! I’m still coming, I don’t believe it, it almost HURTS!” And she looked up at him, utterly lustful, her eyes smoldering as she looked at the man giving her everything she could have dreamed of. “It feels...sooo...goooooooood.” And she let the last word out as though it were a growl, from deep in her chest, her voice dropping an octave from the screaming pleasure before. 

He came. He was shouting incoherently, his face red, almost purple with his strain and his ecstasy. He fell onto her, panting, though he supported himself on his arms quickly, afraid his bulk might cut off her breathing. “I love you, Robin. I love you so much.” He lifted himself up a little further.

“It’s okay, Cormoran.” She looked up at him, happy. So simply and completely happy beyond anything she’d ever imagined. “You can relax. I want to feel your weight on me, you won’t hurt me.”

He eased himself down a little at a time, apparently not quite believing her. He was pressed against her but still clearly holding back. “Let go, Cormoran.” And finally he did. He was definitely heavy, but it felt nice to be pressed down so thoroughly by him, he was such a big man. She held him around the back, feeling the ripple of muscles there as he adjusted slightly. She kissed his hair and temple as he put his face next to her neck. “Love you, love you, love you,” she said, and then she pulled back and he raised his head and looked into her face.

How could she ever have found him unattractive? He wasn’t objectively handsome perhaps, but the turn of his mouth was nice, and his eyes were lovely, and his smile was adorable.

“That was amazing, Cormoran, I’ve never felt so allowed to be myself during sex...but I’m afraid there’s something a little more prosaic you should also know.”

“What?”

“We have a train to catch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 10 months later, I suddenly wanted to see where they went the next day. They got slightly naughtier than I expected! I'll probably follow them onto the train and listen to them in their happiness as they make discoveries about one another and the like. We'll see.
> 
> Also, let me just link some of my favorite "They get together" stories (mine is linked at the top of this page!):
> 
> [The Best Revenge by lindmea](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11066181/chapters/24677070)
> 
> [ You Measured Your Thumb Against Mine by Fox_in_the_snow](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16720554)
> 
> [Cracks in the Wall by SuperVi](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16297931)
> 
> ["It's too soon." by LulaIsAKitten](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15637896)
> 
> [late night questions, midnight answers by lovebeyondmeasure](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13484463)
> 
> [It's OK. I couldn't sleep anyway by Blue_Robin](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17695025)


	2. Chapter 2

He went to the bathroom, they got on leg and clothes, and grabbed their few belongings from the hotel to check out. As they left the room, he took up the heavier laptop bag and her well-worn purse and shoved them together atop his arm and shoulder, and left her just the lighter camera bag. Robin reflected, thinking that he would have shouldered the heavier burden even if they had not slept together; she also remembered a few occasions where asking Matt to hold her purse had apparently been tantamount to removing his penis.

They grabbed a very quick bite and coffee at the roadside cafe, and then they started to walk, not talking much, but holding hands, though Strike did make time for a quick cigarette as well. They were both content to enjoy the green countryside, the blue sky, and the bubble of perfection that they floated inside together. Strike’s leg did not bother him one whit. 

They had made their way to the train station with some minutes to spare and got on the train and into a relatively private space right next to each other with no fuss.

“Okay, so, I've been wanting to ask you this for a long time," Robin said almost as soon as they were seated, and she took his hand. "Will you tell me about your mother, Cormoran? Can I ask about her?” 

His tone was even as he replied, but Robin still thought he looked both weary and wary. “Of course, what do you want to know?”

“Whatever you want to tell me about her, whatever comes to your mind.”

Strike relaxed a little at this. "Shanker remembers her as a saint, and Lucy remembers her as a flighty layabout. I think they’re both wrong...or maybe both right, I guess." He added without transition, "I'm grateful she lived long enough to get me to adulthood."

Robin thought privately that 20 did not really seem like adulthood.

Strike went on. "You probably, in large part, have the measure of her from some of the things you've heard: larger than life, constantly in motion, never settled, rock and roll lifestyle, all that stuff. Lucy's right that our lives weren't stable, and that Mum truly didn't do right by us sometimes, but she's lost something essential about her, I think. Mum really valued fairness, justice, doing the right thing. She gave us a bedrock of morality, and I don't think Lucy gives her enough credit for that at all. She put her money where her mouth was with that kind of thing. You know about her and Shanker; there are lots of stories like that about Leda Strike. She was always loving, giving. It wasn't always easy to be her son, but I'd never trade her for another mother, never, even if that new mother was still alive and I could speak to her right now, right this second."

The train began to move. Robin blinked tears back and said, "I'm sure she'd have loved to hear that tribute. Will you tell me more?"

Strike waxed poetic about his mother's best and worst qualities and told his favorite stories of her as the countryside rolled by.

**********************************

They'd been gently and quietly kissing for some time after Strike's last story (about Leda chastising Strike for breaking into her alcohol supply when he was 14--Leda had said he should have asked instead), when he pulled back.

"Is there anything you're worried about, Robin? About us, I mean? Anything you anticipate problems with?"

Robin blinked, looked away, thought a moment, looked back. "You kept me out of your private life a lot of the time before. Sometimes it hurt my feelings, how little you shared about yourself really, how there were sometimes parties with your friends and you never invited me. I'm worried that's habit for you now and you still won't let me in on important parts of your life. We talked last night about you letting me in, and I'm worried you won't there."

"Oh, Robin, I'm sorry. At first, I thought it was healthy to keep things separate because I wanted the business to be stable. Later, I kept you at arm's length for my own sanity." He paused and looked at her with pain in his eyes. "You were always engaged or married or freshly divorced, Robin, and you were also the most incredible woman I'd ever met. I ached for you for so long."

She hugged him, and he hugged back and said, "You're invited in. Anywhere you want. Whoever you want."

"Thank you, Cormoran." They broke apart. "Is there anything you're worried about?"

"Well, since you ask, I worry that you'll judge me more for my drinking and smoking now. You've always been understanding and quiet about it, and I...I just worry it'll be different now."

"Well, Cormoran, here's what I'll say about it. If you ever decide to cut back on food or drink or cigarettes, I'd appreciate and support that. And that's all I'm ever going to say about this unless you bring it up. You're the one who would have to make a choice there."

"Fair enough. Thanks."

They held hands again, and were quiet for a while.

“What do you want to do after this?” he eventually asked.

“After what?”

“The train ride. When we reach London.”

“Oh.” It was so strange, Robin thought, their lives were going to go on in London after this much as they always had (with some obvious and enormous exceptions). The trip to Pontypool (God, could it only have been yesterday?), last night, this morning--it was like they’d been traveling in another dimension that now had to blend with the reality from before. It felt as though the world should shift around them, like the world should be different because they were different. Surely she should have learned by now…the world changes you, not the other way round.

“I hadn’t thought about it,” she said. “I want to go home and get cleaned up and I have to do a couple of errands that might take me till this evening. Other than that, though, I just want to be with you. Is that all right? I don’t want to act as though your time belongs to me now.”

“Robin, please, please literally never worry about that. You’re not being needy by wanting to be with me. Or if you are, we can be needy together since I want to be with you as much as I can...as much as you want to be with me.”

Robin smiled. “Careful. I’ll hold you hostage.”

“I’m waiting for the downside.”

“Cormoran.” She said it so gently, putting her hand on his. “Oh, Cormoran.”

They sat there silently for another lengthy period, one of them occasionally moving a finger or two across the other’s palm or wrist, watching the countryside become ever so slightly more urban.

He broke the silence. “Is it terribly cliche if I want to take you out for a nice dinner this evening?”

She looked at him. This was unexpected. She had assumed that if they were going to spend this evening together, there would be curry takeout and laughs in the office. Then they’d go up to his flat--she was excited about that, about being utterly welcome in that space, his den of solitude--and they'd re-create or build on the wonderful things they'd done last night and this morning. But he wanted to take her out...

“Is that wrong?” he asked, her silence having stretched for several seconds. “I mean, the Tottenham, then upstairs to the flat, you swimming in one of my t-shirts, some telly, and undoubtedly amazing sex sounds very nice also, but...I want to celebrate. Not that last night wasn’t amazing and romantic and everything I could have ever dreamed, Robin...but...I’ve never cared about anyone so much; I want to do you the honor of taking you out properly.”

She lowered her head a moment and her hair hid her face, and he was worried he’d never stopped saying the wrong thing the entire time he’d been babbling. But when she raised her head, it was clear she was fighting emotion. Her voice hitched when she said, “Dinner would be lovely, thank you.” She wiped a tear from each eye, and then asked, “Can it be a late dinner? 8:00? 8:30? Like I said, I have a couple of things to take care of. I already told my parents about us over text, but I’m going to give them a call to talk about it with them while I’m getting things done.”

“You told your parents?” For a moment, she was afraid _she’d_ said the wrong thing, pushed their relationship into territory he wasn’t comfortable with, but she looked at him and there was a soft, almost wistful expression on his face. “Wow, you’re really serious about me, Robin.”

“I’d think that’s pretty obvious after everything we’ve said and done in the past 24 hours, but yes I am. Very much. Also, despite some of the differences in our romantic pasts, monogamy is common ground, a long relationship is common ground. I don’t know how to be anything but serious about this kind of thing.”

He nodded.

“Is there anyone you’re going to tell today?” Robin said.

“Nick and Ilsa, they’ll be pleased to hear it. Ugh, Ilsa’s never going to stop smirking at me; she’s been nudging me...well, shoving me really, for months to say something to you. I might give telling Lucy another day or two. She’ll be suggesting names for our children within ten seconds of me telling her.”

She laughed and then sobered. “You don’t want children, do you, Cormoran?” It was a question and not an accusation.

“I can’t say the idea’s ever truly appealed to me. Do you? Want children?”

She was suddenly aware of the serious ground they were trodding on, but even more than that (she was really going to have to stop doing herself the disservice of comparing him to Matthew), she felt how much her feelings and opinions mattered to him. Not just because they’d slept together, but for years now. Matthew had always assumed the nice house with the open floor plan, and the car, and the 2.4 kids was a matter of course. He’d never asked her if that’s what she wanted, and had been taciturn and pouty when her ideas about what her life should be did not mesh with his. Her feelings and wishes were, it was assumed by Matthew, always subsumed by his--she was a mere extension of his desires, not even a character but a prop in the play he was starring in.

“I don’t know, really. It would be an honor to have a child, to care for another human being that way, but I don’t know if that’s what I want to spend so much of my life on. Give me a year or two to be with you and think about it, and I might have an answer for you. I hope if I ever do decide I do want them...I hope that we can talk about it. I wouldn’t want to chain you down, and I don’t expect you to change your outlook on that, but I’d hope you could make room for discussion.”

“If I’d ever entertain the thought of being responsible for another human being, it would be with you. There’s no one else nearly so strong and capable and affectionate in my life. You’d be an amazing mother. I’m just not sure I’d be the best father, or that I’d want to try.”

“Cormoran, you could never be anything but a fantastic father if you were in that situation. Your standards for your own conduct and your capacity for affection are too high for you to be anything but a great father, but let’s not worry about it too much for now. I’m not planning the wedding yet or anything.”

She sat back in her seat, and shook her head, lips slightly parted, looking disbelieving. “Two weeks ago, you were with Charlotte, and it felt like my heart was decomposing in my chest. Twenty-four hours ago, I didn’t really think this would ever happen. I thought going on the pill was wishcasting. And now we’re here, and you're in love with me. Can it be you’re really this far in? Things changed so fast!”

“I've loved you so much for so long, Robin. I just thought I wasn’t allowed to say it. I thought our business would explode if I said anything. I also thought I was doing you a favor. I’m still a little surprised you’re all right with a fat, one-legged, ugly 40-year-old. You could do better.”

Robin scowled. “Cormoran, NEVER say things like that about yourself in front of me again. That’s horrible. You’re a magnificent human being, you’re sexy as fuck, and I’m not “all right” with you, I’m desperately in love with you. Don’t call yourself names like that. Making dirty jokes about your leg is one thing, but you’re insulting the finest man I’ve ever known, back off.” Her expression softened and finally she smiled as "back off" came out of her mouth, but then she sobered again. “Seriously, don’t. I mean it.”

“All right, Robin, all right. I’ll only insult myself in my own head and in front of all our friends, relatives, and neighbors when you’re not there, all right?”

Robin snorted. “I guess I can’t do anything about inside your own head, but I’ll recruit the people in our lives to police you on this self-insulting business, I swear.” She put on a sardonic little smile. “That’s just the woman you’ve fallen in love with.”

“Oh, I really have.” He put his arm around her waist and onto her thigh and she put her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes. He rested his head lightly on hers, and they stayed that way in silence for a long time.

**********************************

Eventually, their stop was announced and they gathered themselves together to exit. 

“I’ll text you after I’ve got the reservation booked,” said Strike.

“Where are we going?”

“I’m pretty sure I can get us in at Chez Pierre.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Really? I thought that place was booked out for months.”

Strike adopted a conspiratorial tone. “I don’t know if you knew this, but I’m a private detective. Got inside contacts, secret info, all kinds of incredible tools at my disposal.”

She giggled, wondering to herself when was the last time she had legitimately giggled. “Okay Magnum, PI. But I think you should know I’m a private detective as well, and…” She moved her gaze over his body slowly, head to toe and back, then looked into his eyes and said, “I have a few tricks up my sleeve as well.”

The train doors opened and she walked out without looking back before he could think of anything coherent to say to that, his mind fixated on her utterly devastating sexiness.

They walked out to the sidewalk and into a nearby outdoor Tube station, where they were headed in opposite directions.

“I can’t wait to see you tonight, Cormoran.”

“Same here, Robin. I’ll let you know.”

They kissed, closed-mouthed but not briefly, and then parted, turning back to each other and waving until they couldn't see one another anymore, like teenagers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably two more chapters coming.
> 
> This is the first portion I've written where I feel like there might be some fairly OOC content. (Chapter 3 of "Struck" might be a little "purple prose", too, I think.) Harder to navigate as they enter territory they've never been close to in the actual books, but I still think it's pretty good.


	3. Chapter 3

He was sitting at their table at 8:33 PM with a half-dozen Yorkshire roses in his lap, a bottle of one of her favorite wines already open and breathing in front of him. The last time he’d heard from her was when she’d acknowledged receiving his text confirming the reservation time, only a few minutes after they’d parted at the Tube station. In the intervening time, he had gone back to his flat, eaten a light lunch, done a little work in the office, called Nick and llsa, endured ten minutes of Ilsa’s crowing, enjoyed highlights from Arsenal’s recent victory, then showered and shaved, feeling all the time like he was 10 years younger and had two legs. Thankfully the Italian suit was in a good state, dry cleaned and with a small tear repaired since the last time he’d worn it.

He looked around at the restaurant. The decor was a pleasing and modern blend of dark, patterned wood paneling, white walls, and gently reflective surfaces, including on some of the supporting beams. The kind of place you took the woman of your dreams if you had the monetary capacity. Or if you didn’t have the monetary capacity but you did have a reasonable credit line and wanted to impress her enough to pay interest on the meal for six months or so.

He was pleased with the choice of venue. Elegant and refined, but not ornate or showy. Robin would be suitably impressed, and they...

His thoughts were absolutely and utterly derailed by the sight of Robin in profile at the maitre d’ station.

She was wearing the poison green dress, her hair in waves similar to those from her wedding day, looking somehow both like sex personified and a dryad robed in forest garb.

He had seen her in the dress twice before--once for approximately two seconds at the shop where she’d wheedled evidence like an expert when she wasn’t busy devastating Strike’s senses--then again a couple of years later at the big to-do with Chiswell (he had taken some surreptitious and frankly thirsty glances at her that night, incredibly glad to be able to look at her in the dress at some length and imagine a small pool of green forming on his floor). In a sense, the dress had been a disguise both times, a tool involved in their investigation, for public display.

This time, though, she was wearing it exclusively so that he could look at her in it, so that he could imagine her not in it, and he thanked his past self profusely for being an idiotic spendthrift who couldn’t resist the idea of Robin wearing that dress for the rest of her life, even if he would never be the one to see her in it.

She leaned toward the maitre d’ to ask about their table, and Strike saw a few waves of her hair fall across her back, gathering near the sides of her chest. He could see the jersey molding to and stretching against her, pulling taut as it was pushed by her right breast, which flowed magnificently off the slope of her shoulder and collarbone, peaking at an impressive distance from the rest of her trunk before it melted deliciously back into the rest of her near the bottom of her ribcage.

Goosebumps broke out on the back of his arms and neck, his pulse racing in his skull. Imagination was all well and good, but now he knew what she looked like naked, and he could fill in the gaps, could imagine the way her body would look in this position if he went over and ripped the dress off of her right now in his unthinking hunger.

God, but he wanted to be naked with her right now. He wanted to hold her and kiss her tenderly and then grab and smack her arse, and feast on her tits, and pound her cunt with his rock hard cock.

She caught sight of him, and the look she gave him was the same heavy-lidded, promise-filled look she’d given him last night before he’d removed her clothes.

_”Our pleasure, Cormoran.”_

Christ, he was going to actually explode.

She walked over, her eyes two stormy sapphires shining at him, and he stood up as she arrived at the table, the roses in his hands, his admiration frank and all-encompassing.

“You’re exquisite, Robin, absolutely incredible.”

“You clean up nice yourself,” she said, eyeing his shoulders, clearly enjoying the way he filled the suit jacket out. He handed her the flowers across the table and her look turned tender. “You didn’t have to,” she said.

“I know I didn’t,” said Strike. “I don’t have to do a lot of things, but what the hell. You only take the love of your life out on a first date once.”

She put the roses down, walked to his side of the table, reached up, took his face in her hands, and kissed him intensely, filling his mouth with her tongue as she swept and explored, plundering his mouth as though trying to find the center of him.

She broke off and went to her seat, and he admired her body in the dress again as she moved away from him and then turned back toward him and seated herself. He poured her a glass of wine, then one for himself (not his drink of choice, but who gave a rat’s arse?) and settled in. They perused the menu for a minute or so, Robin sipping her wine, and then Strike raised his eyes and spoke again.

“You know, looking back, we both should probably have realized I was in love with you a little sooner, considering I spent a fortune on a dress I saw you in once for a couple of seconds. And after knowing you for, what, a month?”

“But it was a going away present when you bought it, Cormoran. That’s why it was such an amazingly considerate gift and not inappropriate or seedy--you didn’t have designs on me that way; you just wanted to do me a great kindness.”

“That and no one else should ever wear that dress. It would have been a crime for anyone else to have it when it looks as incredible as it does on you.” Robin blushed but did not drop her eyes. “When we first knew each other, I’d admitted to myself within an hour or two that I thought you were pretty, and within a day or two that I thought you were a sexy girl. Even in the very immediate aftermath of recovering from Charlotte, when no woman should have been on my radar at all, I noticed how sexy you were. When you bent over a filing cabinet, it was hard not to notice how sexy you were. But Robin, seeing you in that dress! I mean, I could see your figure was--Jesus, Robin, that sweater you wore the first day. I had to keep my eyes at your hairline or I’d have been talking to your breasts all day like some twat in a pub. But anyway, when I saw you in that dress, your hair and skin with that shade of green, so snug, every detail highlighted--let’s just say that was a seminal moment for me, in both senses of the word. Anyway, um, that’s the story of me being completely salacious over you while you were engaged and my employee. Thanks for listening?”

“Ha! Your prurient interest in my body during my time as your secretary and during the mourning of your relationship is noted.” Then she gave a Cheshire cat grin. “Appreciated as well.” 

The waiter appeared and they gave their order. Robin spoke to Strike again as the waiter walked off. “I started to like things about you when we went to scout Lula Landry’s place. I was worried about going with you to an unfamiliar location just at the start. You were a large man who was a stranger to me, and I’ve had several bad experiences in my employment history with harassment of one variety or another.”

Strike had the thought, with no wish to speak it, that her incredible beauty no doubt increased the probability of vile men doing vile things. Then he thought how that sounded like “Boys will be boys” dressed up as a compliment, and he felt a little ashamed.

“But you were quiet without being discourteous,” she went on. “You were receptive to my input despite my status. You made me feel like I could really contribute very quickly. Not long after that, I realized you were sleeping on that camp bed in the office and that you’d had a breakup from a long-term relationship, and I...respected your independence and self-sufficiency, the way you didn’t complain or look for charity. But I can’t say I really thought of you sexually in any significant way until…” She swallowed a little and looked into his eyes, and she suddenly seemed insecure and afraid. “...Ciara Porter.”

Strike sucked in a quiet, fluttery breath and looked away.

She went on. “I shouldn’t have been as interested in finding out about that as I was--that’s what should have given it away for me early on...how I took too much interest in your dalliances and relationships for it to be friendly.” She blushed and looked away. "It was hard knowing about those other girls, sometimes. Charlotte was like sticking a knife in my heart."

Strike reached across the table, a gesture for her hand, and she reached out and took his.

He said, “I’ll start by saying I don’t want to demean Ciara...or any of the other women I’ve been with. But to state the obvious again, none of them compare to you. It’d be like comparing a torch to the sun.” She sighed happily. He went quiet a moment, then said, “Robin, no significant relationship of mine--Charlotte, Elin, Lorelei--has ended on speaking terms. That part does scare me, Robin. I don’t want to lose you that way, it terrifies me.”

She brought her other hand forward and took his outstretched hand in both of her hands, closed her eyes, and shook her head serenely.

“You love me, Cormoran. You didn’t love any of them, not even Charlotte.”

His heart felt like there was a warm ember gently burning there that would never go out. An ember that could be fanned to flames or brought to a low glow, but could never be extinguished.

“Thank you, Robin. You always know what to say to people.” She smiled warmly. “I didn’t just lech after your physical appearance, of course. From the beginning, it was clear how smart and capable you were, and I respected you. Not long after that, it was clear how brave and resourceful you were, and I admired you.” She tilted her head, looking at him as her smile intensified. “Can I say something a little untoward? I mean, like it might offend you a little.”

She sat up and frowned a little. “I think so.”

“When I found out what happened to you at university, it intensified what I felt for you. Not the circumstances themselves, but your response to them. How you hadn’t let it shut you down, how open you still were to the world despite it having burned you so badly. But also because...I saw a kindred spirit. I saw that you knew what real horror was and that meant something to me.”

She nodded, her expression serious but not forbidding. “I’ve thought about it, of course. But I always ended up thinking that you had it worse, really. Your relatively rocky childhood, your mother's death, Charlotte, your experiences in the military with abused women and children, your leg--that’s a pretty good pummeling life gave you, Cormoran.”

“Well, I don’t think being a woman attacked by murderous men several times over and having regular panic attacks sounds like a picnic. Nor does being with Matthew.”

“Let’s stop weighing and comparing the traumas of our past, shall we?”

“All right. For now. You know us.” He quirked a smile at her, and she leaned into the back of her chair happily as she looked at him.

She broke eye contact to look around. “I confess, I’m glad the place is as nice as this, so that the dress doesn’t seem too much. I mean, you could have taken me to McDonald’s or straight to your flat, and I’d have worn this dress, but still.”

“It really does suit you, Robin. Jesus Christ, you’re a sexy beast.”

Robin grinned and said, “Your reaction makes this afternoon and the money worth it.”

“What?”

“You remember the last time I wore this dress, Prince Harry and all?”

Strike nodded.

“Well, I got back to Matt’s and my place that night, and we tried to make up from a fight, but it all ended up with him tearing the dress at the zip and me refusing to have sex with him.”

“Fucker, glad you told him where to stick it. Where not to stick it, I mean.” Robin laughed. “So wait...you had the dress repaired...this afternoon?”

“Right in one. I had to pay more for the rush job, and I may have gone into a certain amount of personal debt to carry this evening off perfectly.”

“Worth it. You’re a picture, Robin. Thank you for taking that trouble for me.”

“It’s for both of us, Cormoran. The money’s worth it for the way you looked at me when I walked in.”

Their food arrived, and they paid attention to eating for several minutes since the food was as good as advertised.

Robin was nearly done when she looked at him as she put her cutlery down and sipped her wine, “Can I ask you something?”

Strike chewed and swallowed the food in his mouth. His tone was light and teasing and his eyes practically twinkled and it was not at all a rebuke: “I think we’ve established at this point that no prelude is necessary. Yes, of course, you can ask me.”

Robin beamed and glowed, then asked him, “The day you dropped me off at the train for Matt’s mum? What did you do about the car?”

Strike looked down. “Well, it was kind of a kerfuffle, to be honest.”

“Normally I’d stop and talk about you using the word ‘kerfuffle’, but right now I just want to know what happened.”

“Oh, police, towing equipment, citations for various violations.” He hesitated, and then added, “And a significant set of fines.”

“Cormoran, I’m so sorry.”

“Robin, I didn’t care. I’d have climbed Everest to get you there, let alone gotten a stern talking to from the equivalent of some meter maids. It was very important for you and your family.”

She gazed at him. “You’ve done so much for me.”

“I can say the same right back to you. You’ve been there when I needed you so many times. I’d probably have died a couple of times in the last few years without you, and just...just having you at Jack’s bedside in the hospital, that meant the world to me.”

She didn’t respond, but waved to the waiter who started to move toward them.

“What is it?” said Strike.

“Are you okay with skipping dessert?”

“Sure, why?” asked a barely disappointed Strike.

“Hello, could you just bring us the bill, please?” Robin said to the waiter who had just come into earshot.

The waiter said, “Of course,” and turned around to do as Robin had asked.

“Why, Robin?” said Strike again.

She looked at him, disbelieving. “Are you actually this thick? Because I want you to take me back to your flat.”

Strike nearly fell as he shot from his chair; he pursued the retreating waiter, raising his voice to get the waiter’s attention, removing his card from his pocket and waving it frantically. The waiter turned around again and was clearly startled to see the enormous, gesticulating form of Strike bearing down on him.

**********************************

The evening was warm as they left Chez Pierre, and he offered her his arm, and she took it.

She gave him a sensual look, but it wasn’t the heavy-lidded and openly sexual one from earlier. It was both seductive and tenderhearted. “You’re the most wonderful person I’ve ever met. I can’t believe how lucky I am.”

“Right back to you again, Robin.”

Strike hailed a cab, opened the door for Robin when it arrived, and they headed toward Denmark Street with eyes only for each other, their hearts full.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think that this chapter was less OOC. It's just fun to watch them talk, honestly. One more chapter to take it firmly back into the smut realm, though. :D


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my party, and they'll do what I want them to. :)

The cab ride was silent, though they could not help kissing some, despite the driver’s presence. Robin thought about where they were going and what they were about to do, and her heart beat a little faster, love now compounded with lust, making her pulse race.

They arrived at Denmark Street, and Strike handed some notes over to the driver with a “thank you”, and slid out of the cab, and Robin after him.

She went up first, and he admired the view almost all the way upstairs. Her arse was incredible, wonderfully, delectably round and soft, swaying to and fro with her hips as she walked and climbed in the dress.

They arrived at the door of his flat, and Robin said, “I’m invited in, right?”

Strike smiled, and opened the door and made a showy, comical gesture of welcoming and ushering inside. Robin laughed, and crossed the threshold.

It was really rather small for such a big occupant, though all the major necessities were about-- bathroom, kitchen, bed. She looked at the bed, about hip high, and her groin stirred. It was going to happen, they were going to consecrate this place, _his_ place, with love and sex.

“Cup of tea?” said Strike. He was in no hurry, they had all night if they needed it.

Robin said, “Yes, please.”

Strike went into the kitchen and faced away from her as he got the kettle on and washed a couple of dishes.

Robin went to his dresser and looked at the things on top of it. It was a mostly spartan room, used by a former military member after all, but there were a couple of small keepsakes on the dresser. There was a bangled headband (his mother’s?) and his army tags, and beside them a piece of paper.

Robin looked more closely at the paper, and her heart skipped a beat. It was the note she’d left him after he’d been soused at the Tottenham during the Landry case. “Dear Cormoran” It was the first time she’d written to him using his first name. Her eyes flew to the end. “PS Please don’t be embarrassed about last night. You didn’t say or do anything you should regret.”

He had been such a decent man even in his utter drunkenness that night, he had called her “a nice person” so many times, and he had been so sad about Charlotte.

And he had kept the note. Before his feelings about her had been clear to him, he had attached sentiment to her and to them.

Robin put the note down. She took off her shoes and walked silently up to and behind Cormoran as he stood at the counter. She rose on to her toes, and leaned into him, and Strike stiffened in a couple of different manners.

“Cormoran, actually, I think we can skip the tea,” whispered Robin, on tiptoe, right next to his ear, her hot breath tickling his sensitive skin, her breasts pressing into his back, and she nibbled his ear lobe once before she went on. “I know you love me in it, but I’m pretty sure you love me even more out of this dress. Take it off me, please.”

Strike turned off the stove, and turned around to kiss her softly, and then turned her around to access the zip. _It’s about to happen_, he thought. _That pool of green is finally going to be on my floor._ And for just a moment, as he had briefly last night, he felt almost tearful, he’d waited for this for so long.

He reached out, and pulled the zipper delicately down. Her beautiful back was exposed. He reached up and slid the dress off her shoulders, sliding his hands along her arms as he pulled it down. As he pulled it over her bottom, he let his hands linger and squeeze for a bit before he finished getting the dress off of her, and she stepped out of it, now clad only in her underwear. He watched as the dress hit the floor and there was the green pool, and wasn’t that a wonder?

He bent his head to her ear, and said, “Can I touch you from behind, Robin? Is that okay for you?”

She was touched at his thinking of her and the problems she’d had since Laing. “Yes, Cormoran. Touch me, by all means.”

He put an arm around her and slid it from her neck, down one breast and all the way to her thigh. He repeated the motion on the other side, then brought both hands to her thighs and squeezed, slid his hands up her belly and cupped her breasts, gently holding as much of them as he could get in each hand, then holding her nipples in his fingers, encouraging them to stiffen inside the bra with his ministrations. 

Robin felt the size and strength of him as he wrapped himself around her, how thick and strong his arms were. By all rights, she should be panicking at the situation as he’d worried she would, thinking about how he could squeeze the life out of her if he wanted to, crush her and break her ribs and sternum, but all she could think was how safe she was and how good his rough, callused hands felt on her skin, how her best friend _could_ hurt her like that, but never, ever would.

Robin turned around, got free of his arms, and brought his head down to hers, and they kissed and kissed and kissed, first with mouths closed, then with mouths open, and both thought the other’s lips and tongue soft and fantastic to feel and to taste.

She got his suit jacket off, and then he loosened the tie and removed it. He took a moment to remove his shoes and socks, and she helped get his belt and trousers off. He removed his shirt, then moved to the bed and sat down to remove the bottom portion of his leg.

“Can I help?” said Robin. It was almost a plea.

Strike looked at her, at the earnest yearning she had to make his life easier, and could not believe such a good person actually loved him.

“Yes, Robin, here help me with the gel pad, then.”

Together, they removed his leg, and Robin was gratified to be let in on this part, to be a part of the process, to be in the inner sanctum where she could be so intimate with him in ways that were not always sexual.

After this was done, she stood in front of him as he sat on the bed, and he lifted her covered breast in his hand, put his mouth around the cup of the thin, cotton-cupped bra at her nipple and sucked gently there.

“Oh, Cormoran, that’s so hot, I love it.”

He reached behind her and undid her bra, his mouth still on her, and her breasts practically sprung free. He unlatched his lips and pulled away as Robin stepped back slightly to remove the bra and put it aside, now only in pants.

God, but her breasts really were gorgeous, both shapely and large. He waited for her to step forward so he could make clear his feelings about her breasts, but she stayed back and said, “Cormoran, do you...do you like playing with my boobs for its own sake or just to make me feel good?”

She had used the word “boobs” for the first time. It was good to see her getting a bit more informal and comfortable, though Strike thought the word “boobs” didn’t do breasts justice; it wasn’t dignified like “breasts” or sexy and forbidden like “tits”. But he supposed if you were a woman, they were just part of you, weren’t they? “Very much for its own sake, though you enjoying it makes it even better. I love it.”

“And, if I recall correctly, you rather enjoyed having your nipples played with yesterday, yeah?”

Until last night, as Robin had discovered to her delight, Strike had never been the recipient, only the giver, of oral-nipple stimulation. “Yeah, that was great Robin, really nice. Two thumbs and one cock up, would do again.”

She laughed, and then asked with an impish gleam in her eye, “Would you like to do both things at once?”

Cormoran felt a surge of heat in his face, sweat breaking out on his palms. “So, like...a nipple 69 then?”

“Yes, Cormoran, although somehow it’s much easier to just go ahead and actually do the thing than it is to look you in the face and say the phrase ‘nipple 69’.”

Strike laughed, then considered the logistics. “How do you manage it? I don’t think the bed is long enough for us to lie parallel for that.”

“You lie across the bed on your back, good thing the bed’s tall enough to make this feasible, head at one end. Is that okay for your leg?” she asked as he adjusted himself accordingly.

“Yeah, fine, no problem.”

She moved to stand beside him, her belly and his head at a similar level, her looking down at him as he looked up. “Then I bend over you and across you to one side and bring my mouth down to you. Since your nipples are fairly stationary and mine are mobile, I have to get to a certain position to put my mouth on you, and then you adjust my breast to get me in your mouth. If I’m on your left nipple, you’re on my right nipple and vice-versa. As the person on top, I’ll control when we switch, if I move right, you move left, et cetera. Make sense?”

Just hearing this straightforward, unheated explanation of such an intimate act, coming out of _Robin’s_ mouth had Strike climbing up the walls. It was amazing that she could be such a wonderful human being and such a fantastic shag at the same time.

“Will you enjoy it, though?” said Strike.

“Oh, yeah, I think it’s great. The give and take at the same time is lovely.”

Both of them had the thought just then that Robin having experience with, and a ready opinion about, this activity implied Matthew having participated. Robin blushed as she looked down at him, her face upside down from Strike’s perspective, and Strike had a vivid picture in his head he'd much, much, MUCH rather never have seen. Suddenly, for a second or two, for Strike, it was a year or two ago and the simple fact was that Robin and Matthew were having sex regularly and their sex probably wasn’t anywhere near all bad for her, and Matthew was no doubt beautiful to look at and fun to touch for her, his face and body the platonic ideal of masculinity, and sometimes there was no way to not think about all of that, and the old wound in his heart was ripped open again, and he burned with jealousy and undirected rage--this look at one of Matthew's and Robin's specific intimacies was so distasteful to encounter, he almost gagged.

Then he calmed down. Robin was here, her clothes off, with him, and if she had practiced with Matthew for the main event that was himself, who was he to complain or be jealous when nothing could be done about the past? Would he expect Robin to be unable to cope with the fact that he had slept with a number of women and one that had meant a great deal to him? Was he going to be ungrateful for the thoughtful gift she'd offered just because Robin had gotten acquainted with that gift through Matthew? He expected her to be able to handle the fact that his sexual prowess, so foreign and exciting to her (he was so used to adulation from women in this regard that he almost took it for granted, except that it was Robin), had come through his previous experiences, and if he wanted to give her new and exciting things, he had to be an adult and accept and relish the fact that she would bring new things, too.

“It sounds fantastic, Robin. Would you prefer to be the one lying down, though?”

She smiled. This had always been a good part of her sex life with Matt, for both of them. Robin also happened to enjoy mutual masturbation with nipple play as a facilitator and enhancer for orgasm, but that could wait until another evening. “You’ve already taken your leg off, for one thing, so it makes sense for it to be you on your back. Also, it’s fun both lying down and bending over to me, but from my experience, men do enjoy boobs hanging in their face, don’t they? Particularly when they’re then able to put them in their mouths.”

He feigned outrage. “It’s insulting when you generalize about men like that, Robin. Why, some of us don’t even like boobs, and some of us are gay.” He grinned. “Kidding. You’ve got a lot of us pegged, I’m afraid.”

She smirked. “You’re the one who’s going to have me pegged soon.”

“Jesus, the cheekiness is so sexy, Robin. Christ.”

“I’ll show you what’s sexy,” she said, bending over him and spreading her fingers near his left nipple to get his hair mostly out of the way.

He had almost forgotten how it felt, it was so intense, this sensation, no wonder most women loved this so much. It was almost as though he had two secondary sets of genitals, but they were tiny and on his chest. Robin was delicate and slow to start, light kisses and warm, soft licks.

Her right breast was near his face, and he did as he’d been told, and adjusted her a little (due to her size, the position of her nipple was quite malleable, and weren’t her nipples and areolae just the most beautiful pink on earth, roses and sunrises and coral be damned) and put his mouth on her. Oh, but her breasts were lovely to look at, to hold, to lick and suckle upon as they spilled generously into his face, and her mouth was doing incredible things, and he found himself following her lead. If she sped up or firmed her tongue, he went along with her, and slowed down or softened in time with her as well, and they sent waves of warm pleasure through one another. Robin was right, Strike thought. It was sexy to be able to feel what she was giving and also to know he was giving it right back. 

She took her mouth off of him for a moment, and her voice was sultry and slow as she said, “Mmmmm, Cormoran, this is wonderful, it’s like you’re hungry, like you're trying to eat me. I want to gobble you up, you’re so good at this.” Then she switched sides, doing a lollipop lick across his entire right areola before she closed her mouth around him and sucked, sucked, sucked, so wet, so warm, her tongue alternately flicking and licking.

She really was getting more comfortable now, and her words combined with the sensations she was giving him made Cormoran frantic with lust as he moved to her other side and tried to give her the same amazing sensations he was receiving.

They spent another minute at this, Strike alternately licking the entirety of her areola and nipple, or covering the entirety of her areola with his tongue without any suction, or closing his lips tightly around just her nipple and sucking, or gathering all of her areola into his mouth and alternating long, warm licks with frantic suckling. Then without warning, Robin slipped a hand into his pants and wrapped it around his cock and stroked softly, and he shuddered. He reached his hand behind himself and between her legs to stroke her similarly. Robin popped off him and moaned and switched sides and he adjusted with her and they increased their mouths’ and hands’ pace, and then suddenly Robin pulled back, lust blazing in her face, and she said, “Make me come with your mouth, Cormoran. I want it, I can’t take it anymore, make me come.”

Like he’d been given an order by a drill sergeant, he was instantaneously up and swiveling his legs to the side of the bed she was on. He was out of the bed and on one foot, using his hip against the bed for balance, and he grabbed her by the shoulders, and turned her around and practically flung her onto the bed. He fell partially onto her, pressed her breasts together with his hands as he had the previous night to get both her nipples in the same location, and licked and sucked a little longer there, just because it was so hot and he wanted as much of her in his mouth as he could possibly get.

“It’s torture now, Cormoran! I love it, but it’s torture! Make me come, please!” she wailed.

He did as requested, finally moving down, yanking her pants off of her, and then immediately treating her clit as he had last night. He looked up at her face as his tongue worked, her eyes were closed, she was smiling and breathing heavily as they chased her orgasm together, and sometimes his tongue was an iron rod that bumped and pressed her clit, and sometimes it was an oil slick that covered her clit entirely in warmth and wetness. He treated her pleasure center with delicacy and firmness all at once, teasing her along toward her apex.

"Oh Cormoran, I'm close, don't stop."

He reached up and touched her still damp nipples lightly as his tongue kept going, and she was coming as he put the slightest squeeze on them with his fingers. 

"Oo ohhhh aaahhhh oohhhhHHH YES, Cormoran, Christ, yes, I'm coming! You're amazing, keep going, lick me and touch me, it's so good!" She shouted a while longer without words, happy and amazed as Strike lapped at her and massaged her nipples softly, and then she collapsed smiling and satisfied as his hands and tongue withdrew. She felt as though she were radiating heat like an oven, and was lying down on a cloud.

She came slowly back to herself and he was looking mostly happy, with just a trace of smug. He was such a sexy man.

She said, “Needless to say, that was wonderful, Cormoran. My GOD, you’re good. Holy shit.”

He only smiled a little more.

“Cormoran, what do you want to do next? I feel like I’ve gotten a lot, what do you want?”

“I have kind of a plan in mind actually, if you’re game.”

“I’m pretty sure I’ll be game,” said Robin, and it was barely a joke, it mostly sounded interested and anticipatory.

“Right, well. I thought it was rather sexy this morning when you said you felt like an animal, and I’d rather like to try being behind you with you on your knees. But I wondered, again, if that would be a problem for you because I’d be, y’know, a big man behind you, grabbing you and all that.”

Oh, but what a thoughtful, considerate person Cormoran Strike was. The thing he wanted most right now, and the first thing he did was think about how it would make her feel. She couldn’t believe she could call him her...boyfriend? (the word seemed ridiculous when associated with him)...no, partner. It was always going to be partner.

“I’ll be all right, Cormoran. I always feel safe with you. It’s very gratifying in a sexual partner, I must say.”

He grinned. “Well, then, that’s only half the plan, though. I actually have some trouble getting to orgasm in that position, so I was thinking maybe you could ride me after I ride you? Sound good?”

“It sounds great.”

He removed his pants and got behind her, hard as a rock, and she kneeled on the bed, put her hands atop the headboard to brace herself. She looked back at him, and her tone was plaintive, not lustful. “I want you to mount me, Cormoran. I want you to grab me and take me from behind.”

He kneeled between her legs and was inside her within two seconds.

“Ohhhhhhhhhhhh,” said Robin, and _now_ her tone was lustful. “Ohhhh my Goooooood, that’s lovely,” she moaned.

Strike liked this vantage of Robin. Her radiant hair draping across her back, contrasting beautifully with both her skin and the freckles that dotted her back. Her arse and thighs, beautifully proportioned and soft, were a cushion for his impact as he thrust and thrust again. He stroked his hands over her back and arse as he pushed into her. He grabbed her waist and kept the ramrod battering.

“Robin, you feel so good, it feels so good inside you.”

She started to participate rather than passively take his ramming, thrusting herself backwards onto him as he thrust himself forward into her.

“Jesus, fuck, Robin, that’s fantastic.”

“Yes…it...is…” said Robin, enjoying the feeling of being speared and taken. The feeling Cormoran wanted her to have, of being not a human, but an animal, a creature of sensation and not thought...she had that feeling now. All she felt was a current of sexual electricity shooting through her again and again.

He leaned forward onto her and reached under her with one big arm and cupped a dangling breast, at first just enjoying the softness in his hand, then focusing on her nipple, pulling down as though he were trying to milk her.

“Oh yes, Cormoran, yes, and the other one please.” He reached around with his other arm and pinched both nipples at once and she gave a gratifying shout of pleasure. This was not a position he could maintain for long, however. It was difficult to maintain balance, and he couldn’t get as deep inside her, so he let go of her nipples, brought his hands back to her hips, and pounded her as hard and fast as he could.

She came. “Yes, Cormoran, yes, I’m coming, I do feel like an animal with you! Give it to me, fuck me, ride me, ram me, bang me while I come!”

As he felt her involuntarily squeezing, savoring the feeling of her orgasm gripping him, he thought how wonderfully melodious Robin’s voice was, and how her Northern rounded vowels were so sexy. “I’m cooming, fook me” was what he heard, and it was incredibly cute as well as hot.

“Oh, Cormoran, yes, yes, thank you, thank you for taking me out of my own head,” she said as the intensity wound down and Strike slowed and eventually stopped.

Robin said, still facing forward and not looking at him, “I believe there was a second part to your plan, correct?”

Strike removed himself from her, and they both shuddered. Robin turned around, thinking of how he’d made her come four times since last night and three of those times, she had not had her hands on him. She pushed him back to lie down and then said as she loomed over him, “I want you to do me a favor, Cormoran. I can tell from how you are in bed so far that you’re usually focused on the other person, in this case, me. I can see how you’re almost never thinking about yourself, just about the best way you can make me feel good. This morning, I did nothing. I didn’t kiss you, I didn’t touch you. I just let you do to me what I wanted you to do to me. Just now, you got behind me even though you have trouble coming in that position--you keep putting yourself aside for me. That’s not the way I want this next part to go. I want you to only think about what makes you happy, don’t worry about me--I’m probably going to come the minute you thrust into me anyway, but I don’t want you to worry about that. I--your lover, your sex goddess, Robin Ellacott--want to be the one who takes care of you.”

He was so turned on and was about to concur, but before he could, she straddled him and grabbed his cock, and he was inside her again, and how could it continue to feel this _good_? 

As she slid up and down on him, he pulled back and thrust up into her, and Robin was right, she came again as he bucked below her; he could see the goosebumps rising all over her.

“You’re so far up inside me, Cormoran, it’s so intense, thank you, thank you, thank you, the way you rub against the front of me is so wonderful.”

She leaned forward and down to give him access to her chest, and he rubbed his face all along the contours around and between her breasts, glad to be drowning in tit, more or less, and then latched onto her.

Robin was riding him and riding him and he was giving it back for everything he was worth as he relished the suckling, the soft pliability of her nipple between his lips, when he felt his orgasm within reach, but still some distance away. He could beat it back, retreat from the point of no return, and make her come again if he chose.

Suddenly, she sat up, pulling her breast out of his mouth, and she was speaking to him at length as they looked each other in the eye. She was oddly relaxed in tone despite the frantic pace of their lovemaking, calling him gentle pet names she’d never used for him up to now. “Cormoran, come. I want you to come. I want you to come inside me, my own, my dear, my love. Think about how beautiful you think I am, how amazing you think my body is, think about how you love me, think about how you feel so good right now, how _I’m_ the one who’s making you feel good, how you’ve waited years to have me like this, and come, Cormoran. Please come.”

And he did.

For Strike, the sensation of orgasm had always been a wonderful, powerful explosion that lasted two or three seconds and reverberated only briefly before the sensation portion ceased and the sense of well-being, contentment, closeness with the other person, and sleepiness kicked in.

But this one was different. The explosion started, but then it didn’t stop. It rumbled through his body like an earthquake as Robin ground her hips against him again and again, her cunt swallowing his cock again and again. “Robin, you did it, I’m coming. Keep fucking me, please, it feels incredible!”

Now the orgasm had lasted twice as long as usual. “Don’t stop, Robin, keep going! Oh my lord!”

He closed his eyes and pressed his head down and turned his face into the pillow and just felt it, and felt it, and felt it, and he didn’t know what was happening, but it was like he was on another planet, else-fucking-where, outer-fucking-space. Was this what those tantric sex people were on about?

It finally started to recede and he put his hands gently on Robin’s hips to stop her, and she was beaming at him, loving the way he had been so clearly caught up in his climax, and for so long.

“Robin...I’m not exaggerating to make you feel good, that’s the best orgasm I’ve ever had.”

Robin felt pride and happiness swelling in her chest and shining on her face. Oh, it was so wonderful. She had known that Strike would bring her to sexual peaks she’d never reached before, but to hear him say she’d done the same for him made her feel triumphant beyond measure. One day and three beautiful bouts of sex in, and she already outshone Charlotte sexually.

_Take that, you bitch,_ thought Robin, most uncharitably, but she did not care. _I have his heart AND his cock more than you ever did._

As if he could read her thoughts, Strike spoke again, Robin still above him. “You’re right, Robin. I didn’t love Charlotte. I thought I did, truly, until...this morning on the train? Maybe even till an hour ago when you told me I didn’t love her at Chez Pierre. With her, love was always attached to pain, fighting, complications. But with you...everything’s easy. I’ve always thought of your company as restful, but I thought that might change if we took the step we’ve taken. I was wrong. I’m as relaxed and happy with you as I’ve ever been, only now I get to tell you everything without censoring myself, and I get to touch you. Jesus Christ, I love you. I didn’t know how simple and wonderful love could be until you.”

Robin did not know she’d been so empty that she could be so full. Tears came to her eyes and she said, “Cormoran, it means the world to me to hear you say all of that, to know that we’ve both brought each other to emotional places and sexual places beyond our experience. One day together, and we’re better than we’ve ever been in our lives. I love you, Cormoran.”

She slipped off of him, and put her face next to his neck and kissed gently there. “Love you,” she said again, and he slipped his arm around her and held her. He was happy beyond anything he could have conceived of.

As he lay there holding her, Strike had the thought that one day, they would have a couple fight. There would be a disagreement that escalated, and he’d be furious instead of just desperately in love as he looked at her heated, beautiful face. There were many other things like that waiting for them. Their relationship would become a fact of daily life, and the intensity of this, the endorphin rush, would not be there anymore.

But Strike thought that there were more and deeper ways to love that would come in time with Robin. There would be domesticity sometimes (for Strike was now beyond sure that he wanted to live with Robin as soon as possible, though he probably wouldn’t say anything about that to her for at least several months) when they weren’t pursuing their shared goal of being the best detective agency the world over. There would be the daily tendernesses and fond affection of a long couplehood, and the sex would always, _always_ be incredible. And anyway, the endorphin rush had not passed yet, they were still in it and could relish it as long as it lasted. It was amazing they could be so aligned in their desires, to have one another and their work. What benevolent entity beyond time and space had allowed them to have this bliss?

“What do you want to do now, Robin?” said Strike.

“Actually, I’d like to just sit in bed with you, and watch a movie if that works for you.”

“That sounds great.”

A selection from a streaming service was debated and decided upon. She put on one of his t-shirts, and he got into sweatpants. Strike made microwave popcorn, and they lay in bed together, shoulder to shoulder, the bowl slowly emptying of popcorn (more into Strike’s mouth than Robin’s) as the opening credits rolled on the laptop. Twenty minutes into the movie, Strike felt pain in his leg, and shifted further down the bed to ease it, and sat up halfway down the bed when he’d found the right way to position himself. Robin scooted down to get next to him and help and comfort him as best she could.

From behind, they made a fairly strange picture. His coiling, tight, dark curls, her river of lustrous hair. His massive bulk, her slight frame with its occasional swells.

But from the front, anyone who looked at them would not have thought they looked at odds at all. They’d merely have seen two people in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short version of end notes: I really enjoyed writing this, fanfiction is fun and amazing, and I hope you enjoyed reading this story!
> 
> Bully pulpit longer notes that you definitely do not have to fucking read:
> 
> I don't think I'll ever get the urge to follow them to the day after the day after--I've mined the books for most (?) of their interactions for these stories, and I feel at many points, my stories are essentially a Robin & Strike greatest hits reel like, "Hey, remember when this happened to them/him/her in the books? Wouldn't it be nice if they would TALK to each other about it and then BONE?" But I feel that's kind of natural since these books are essentially about the two worst communicators of all time who should be having sex with each other. "COMMUNICATE AND HAVE SEX, DAMN IT" says the reader.
> 
> I can imagine, though, wanting to write a story that centers on Robin's angst while Strike is with Charlotte. Strike has squirmed with his jealousy/angst so much (a whole chapter of CoE is him reflecting on his feelings for Robin and not understanding why she's going to marry that awful man!). While Robin has been somewhat jealous of course, she's (almost) always been attached to Matthew thus far, never allowed herself to give free reign to her jealousy about Strike (except on her honeymoon maybe). Single!Robin (for whom Strike is actually a potential partner, theoretically) should writhe a little to balance that out imo--but again, I'm a boy, so it might be I'm empathizing more with him because of that. 
> 
> *SPOILERS FOR HARRY POTTER BELOW*
> 
> I do not want to be ungrateful for the wonderful universes and characters she has given us, but...I confess that I think JKR failed somewhat in her HP romantic pairings (though I always supported and still support R/H, H/G). She had a very successful buildup with R/H for sure. But H/G had not nearly enough buildup and with R/H, she drew it out too long and the tension was gone and then they kissed for like 10 seconds at the battle of Hogwarts, when it hardly made sense to focus on it, there was so much else going on--a real letdown element of those otherwise generally fantastic books imo.
> 
> The fanfic community provided a number of more interesting or satisfying scenarios with these romantic pairings, and I'm grateful to be able to scratch that itch properly with others' stories, and if JKR lets me down again with great buildup and poor payoff, I'm glad there are plenty of us who yearn to make our two favorite people properly happy. 
> 
> I am hopeful, though, that since the Strike books are almost as much romance novels (not the case with HP) as they are mysteries and since the main characters are grownups…she'll be able to deliver properly (it better not be past Book 7 or I think she'll almost certainly have drawn it out too far and let the air out of the balloon like R/H).
> 
> The line near the end of Chapter 4 about Robin not knowing she’d been so empty, etc. is an homage to The Last Unicorn, where one character thinks the same thoughts at a critical moment. That book’s a good book, yo.
> 
> Chez Pierre is a Daria reference. That show’s a good show, man.
> 
> "My" Strike and Robin are, you know, neurotic/chatty compared to the real ones--I'm pretty sure their first real kiss won't occur after a long, drawn out conversation about whether they should kiss, for instance. But we want the best for them, don't we? They're so sweet and kind and yet they have foibles that make them real. And this is the best way I knew how to give them each other, cliches and all. It's been really fun to move them around like a sophisticated, intelligent Barbie, and a slightly melted, but extremely magnetic Ken doll. I'm always looking for the next good depiction of their angst's ending and their romance's beginning, and I hope this/these story/stories helped make someone happy like many others' such stories have made me happy.
> 
> Now let's see what happens in Book 5! (someday)


End file.
